


shed the dulling armor plates, that once collected radiance

by SilverInk



Category: The Silver Branch - Rosemary Sutcliff
Genre: Character of Faith, Feelings Realization, Idealism, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 19:23:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17432057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverInk/pseuds/SilverInk
Summary: For long months now, ever since Allectus had declared himself Emperor of Britain, Anthonius had noticed things getting steadily worse. There was violence and corruption everywhere in this province in which he’d been so proud to serve, and Anthonius felt frustrated and helpless at how little he could really do.Anthonius finds new a purpose in his life.





	shed the dulling armor plates, that once collected radiance

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from one of my favorite songs, "Animal Life" by Shearwater, which I thought had such a fitting energy for Anthonius! Listen here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cei1hqkQJbE
> 
> Some of the dialogue is taken from _The Silver Branch._

For long months now, ever since Allectus had declared himself Emperor of Britain, Anthonius had noticed things getting steadily worse. The heavier taxes had caused revolts and hunger, Allectus’s Saxon guards caused violence for the sport of it; there was violence and corruption everywhere in this province in which he’d been so proud to serve, and Anthonius felt frustrated and helpless at how little he could really do. He’d had grand aspirations for himself when he’d joined the Legions, aspirations of strengthening and improving the Roman Empire, but now, under this new Emperor of Britain, it seemed that those dreams were very far away. Already he’d begun to consider other, better ways he could serve Rome, though he couldn’t imagine a life where he wasn’t a soldier; he didn’t feel brave enough to make such a change and leave the Eagles entirely. He prayed for guidance and for an end of the violence, hoping that the Christos, who he’d learned of when he’d served in Judea and had followed ever since, would be merciful.

It was a strange mixture of fear and anger and bravery that guided him to make his decision, eventually.

The Divine Allectus was coming to Portus Adurni, and Anthonius’s cohort was assigned to line the streets and keep the civilian crowds back. The Emperor had his ministers and staff with him, and of course, his Saxon bodyguards. In front of the temple of Jupiter, they stopped and dismounted from their horses, and Allectus gave what might have been a very charming smile and waved to the crowds. Anthonius was suddenly filled with bright, sweeping fury that this man would pretend as if he hadn’t caused so much suffering to these people; he half wanted to move aside and let the man who was breathing heavily down his neck and pushing persistently against him, get as close to the Emperor as he wanted.

Before Anthonius noticed, the thing was nearly half over; an old woman managed to squeeze past the street guard to fling herself at Allectus’s feet with a frantic plea that Anthonius never heard. One of the Saxon guards caught her hair and dragged her backward, and then the others were on her as well, pushing her and pricking her with their weapons. The crowd was silent. The woman nearly fell again, and Anthonius felt burning hot. He drew his sword and strode toward the Saxons, and as the woman half stumbled into him, he caught her arm and had her get back behind him. She did, weeping, and Anthonius turned to the Saxons again, gratified to see them looking slightly subdued.

“The game is finished,” he said, with all the authority he could put into his voice.

One of the ministers drew the Saxons away, and the Emperor beckoned Anthonius closer to him. He went, still burning under his armor.

“Centurion,” Allectus said, his voice gentle and almost silky, “no one interferes with my guards.” Allectus stood on the temple step, looking down at him imperiously, and Anthonius clenched his hands at his sides, the short nails cutting into his palms, and prayed silently for restraint and patience.

“Not even when they turn their daggers on old woman for amusement, Caesar?”

“Not even then. Go back to your duties, Centurion, and another time remember not to step beyond them.” Anthonius was the _only_ one properly doing his duties here; he dug his nails into his palms again, and forced himself to salute the awful man and return to his position.

 

***

 

By the time the event was ending, the old woman from earlier was standing near Anthonius, and she touched his hand and thanked him quietly for protecting her.

“It was nothing. I only did what was right, and I should not have had to do it in the first place. An Emperor such as Carausius would never have stood for such a thing from his own guards.” The words were out of his mouth before he could think, and Anthonius had a sudden sharp feeling of fear. He shouldn’t be saying such things about the Emperor he served.

There was a faint flicker in her face, and she leaned closer to him, still speaking quietly. “If that is truly how you feel about our new Emperor, you might do well to visit The Dolphin wine shop, after what happened today. Carry a sprig of rye-grass with you, and it may be that you will find someone there who will help you.”

His heart leaped, and he murmured a fervent “Thank you,” just as quietly. “I will.” She gave him a quick smile, and disappeared into the crowd.

 

***

 

Outside The Dolphin the next evening, Anthonius felt nervous. This was the step he’d been so scared to make, the step that would take him away from military service, but he knew it was necessary for him now. He was deserting his posting, _deserting the Legions_ , something he’d sworn he would never do and that would get him killed if it was found out, but he couldn’t continue to serve with Allectus in power. And so here he was, waiting in the wine shop with a sprig of rye-grass between his fingers.

He ordered a drink, and took a long sip to calm himself as he took a seat. Now he’d wait for someone to approach him who knew what the sprig meant, he supposed. As covertly as possible, he looked around to see if any of the other patrons had rye sprigs on their person, but he didn’t see any. Would he have to come back some other time? That thought made him even more worried — he would wait today for as long as it took.

He’d barely finished the thought when a thin young man approached his table and greeted him like they were good friends, though Anthonius didn’t know him. He wasn’t a handsome man, but his face had a pleasant quality of gentleness about it that made Anthonius like him and want to trust him.

“It is very hot tonight,” the stranger said with a hint of a stutter that was oddly endearing, and moved his cloak to fan himself. As he fanned out the folds, Anthonius noticed that he had a sprig of rye-grass at the neck of his tunic, and his heart leaped in his chest. He leaned forward toward the man and spoke quickly.

“It was told me by — someone —“ he hadn’t even known the old woman’s name, he realized, “—that if I came to this wine-shop wearing a certain token, it might be that I should find those who would help me.”

“That depends on the help,” the young man murmured into his own wine cup.

“The same help as others have found before me.” Anthonius tried to smile at him. He didn’t even know where this would take him, but if it meant leaving the province, he was willing to try. “Let us lay aside the foils. I do not wish to serve longer under such an Emperor as Allectus.”

“That is since yesterday?”

Anthonius blinked. “You know about yesterday?”

“I was c-close by, among the crowd before the temple of Jupiter.”

“Yesterday was the last straw that breaks the camel’s back.”

They spent some time drinking their wine and talking about inconsequential things, and Anthonius was almost able to feel relaxed in the other man’s company. It would have been relaxing and quite enjoyable if Anthonius were here under any other circumstances.

Eventually the young man stood, and they payed for their drinks. And then he led Anthonius windingly through the city, taking unexpected turns down hidden side streets until Anthonius had no idea where they were. Finally, they turned onto another street and into a courtyard that had a single tree and led to a house. The thin young man glanced around them covertly, listening and watching, then ushered Anthonius into the house and followed after him.

The room inside was bright, and there were two others sitting and playing chess. One was a large, plump man, and the other had a bright shock of red hair and also recognized Anthonius from the events at the temple of Jupiter. The man looked rather unkempt, but he carried himself so straight and confident that Anthonius wasn’t surprised to learn that he’d been a Centurion.

The large man—Paulinus—was seemingly the leader of this operation, and he offered to send Anthonius to Gaul in a few days’ time, which was sooner than he’d hoped for. Gaul would be as good a place to live as any, he was sure. Then he offered Anthonius something to eat or drink, but he wasn’t hungry, and he almost felt bad for refusing when the man was clearly trying to make him comfortable. He sat, though, which seemed to please Paulinus, and then he and the red haired Centurion, Flavius, resumed their chess game.

Anthonius had questions, of course he did—namely when and where exactly would he go, and what he would do instead of being a soldier—but he felt it would be better not to ask them, so he stayed quiet instead, turning the questions over in his mind, and once again making silent prayers for guidance. It felt like a long time that they sat there, Paulinus and Flavius playing chess and Anthonius and the young man who’d brought him, whose name he still didn’t know, lost in their own thoughts. But the peace of the evening was broken by another man bursting in and telling them they had to get out immediately: the Saxon guards were all around the house. Anthonius remembered with horror the way the Egyptian man in Allectus’s staff had watched him after the scene outside the temple. Anthonius had all but brought the guards here himself.

He would have gone out to them right then, but the others wouldn’t have it, instead taking him with them out of a secret exit, while outside the barbarians were shouting for them to come out. Paulinus didn’t blame him; it was bound to happen someday, he told him, and the words eased Anthonius’s heart somewhat. As the rest of them left, Paulinus stayed behind, saying he had his own plan of escape. The thin young man—Paulinus had called him Justin—clutched a metal case with a leather strap to his chest, and Anthonius was instantly curious about it. What could be so vital to him that he’d think to bring it away with him? But then they were running, and he didn’t have time to think more about it.

Once they were out of the house, it was a while of tense, anxious waiting for Paulinus to join them. But Paulinus had been killed, they soon found out. The small group was devastated, and though Anthonius hadn’t known him long at all, he grieved as well.

Suddenly, it occurred to Anthonius that if he couldn’t serve Rome as a soldier, he could serve her this way, by fighting with these people against the unfairness of Allectus’s rule. It was a noble cause, surely worth fighting and dying for as Paulinus had, and Anthonius knew that his prayers had been answered.

 

***

 

Flavius and Justin became the new joint leaders of the team, and Anthonius went with them to the new headquarters at a farm in the Downs, since they could no longer meet at The Dolphin wine-shop. They travelled on foot through the morning, and when they stopped about an hour or two away from the farm to wait for dark so they wouldn’t be noticed as they came in, they were so tired that they laid down in the grass and slept, taking turns keeping watch. Anthonius took the first watch, settling with his back against a tree and giving himself a good view of the surrounding area as well as Justin and Flavius.

They were both sleeping soundly, Justin with his metal case next to him in the grass, and Anthonius wondered again what was in it that could be so important to him. He looked younger asleep, and Anthonius was only half surprised to find himself thinking how lovely Justin was. Anthonius knew himself and his romantic attractions very well by now, and since he’d met the man, Anthonius had been intrigued and drawn to him; of course it would become more than that, even in such a short time.

Had it really only been less than a day? It felt so much longer than that; he could hardly believe that this time just yesterday he’d been running through parade drills with his men. That felt like an entirely different life. Now, it might be that he’d give his life in fighting against Allectus’s cruelty, as Paulinus had done.

Anthonius sighed quietly. The man was dead through no fault of Anthonius’s, or anyone else’s except the Saxons. He repeated those words to himself over and over, because it was true, Paulinus had told him so himself. It was no good thinking otherwise, so Anthonius would make himself believe it wholeheartedly.

 

***

 

When he woke again later, the sunlight was warm and honey colored, and the temperature was slightly cooler than it had been earlier when he’d had his watch. Now it was Justin’s watch, and Anthonius saw him sitting up with his metal case beside him and the contents of it laid out in the grass. The contents were a collection of metal objects—surgical tools, he thought—and Justin was polishing one, rubbing it vigorously with a furrow of concentration between his brows.

Justin looked up and met his eyes, and Anthonius asked, “Is it a rust spot that you rub and rub so desperately?”

“I think I try to rub away the knowing that it was I who led the wolves to P-Paulinus’s door,” he murmured, slowly, and Anthonius suddenly felt a desperate need to banish such thoughts from his mind. Justin of all people shouldn’t blame himself for something like this.

“Far more likely it was I,” he tried. “I found that little Egyptian shadow of Allectus’s watching me more than once after that business on the temple steps. It should have put me more on my guard.”

“Yet whichever one of us they followed, it was still I who led the way,” Justin said miserably.

“Paulinus blamed neither of us. He knew it was a thing that might happen any day, through no fault of any man within the team. He told me so himself. It was a risk he was prepared to run, just as — you run it, from now on.” He wasn’t sure if the words had helped much, but he thought Justin looked less upset.

Anthonius watched in silence for a moment as Justin picked up another instrument and began to polish it as well. Then he said, “I wondered what was in that case that you carry with such care.”

“The tools of my trade,” Justin said with a hint of pride.

“Ah, so you’re a surgeon?”

“I was a surgeon, when Flavius was a C-Cohort Commander.”

The instruments looked sharp and bright, and Anthonius picked one of them up curiously. It was a thin, tiny knife, and Anthonius couldn’t imagine trusting himself to use this on someone and not kill them. He set it down again.

“You’re lucky,” he told Justin. “You’re wonderfully lucky. Most of us can only break things.”

Justin met his eyes again and smiled at him a little, his face flushed and pleased.

 

***

 

Later, that night at the farm, the three of them slept in proper beds in their own separate rooms. The beds were so comfortable that Anthonius was almost able to sleep, but he still felt too well-rested from his sleep earlier that day to do so now, and so he slipped quietly out of his room instead, thinking a walk around the house might help him. He went out into the hall, which was bathed in moonlight from the windows, and then to the kitchen. The wine they’d had with dinner was still out in its small amphora, and Anthonius got a cup and poured some for himself.

He turned around to go back out to one of the house’s many windows, and nearly ran into someone standing behind him. He nearly dropped the cup and automatically reached to his side for a sword that wasn’t there, and only then did he realize it was _Justin_.

“I’m sorry, Anthonius,” Justin whispered, and Anthonius was distracted by the way Justin said his name, and the hand he set on Anthonius’s arm. “I thought you heard me.” Anthonius shook his head and gave a soft breath of laughter.

“No, I didn’t. That’s alright, though. Do you want some?” he asked after a short pause, gesturing to his wine cup, and Justin half shrugged, then nodded.

“Thank you.”

Anthonius poured some out and handed it to him, smiling quickly. As they stood there, Anthonius was reminded suddenly of their first meeting. He had been afraid then, but now they were both relaxed, and Justin’s company now seemed to be as pleasant as he’d thought it could be.

“Thank you, by the way,” Justin broke the silence. “For w-what you said earlier, about Paulinus.”

Anthonius smiled. “I meant it. You don’t deserve to carry the blame for something that is not your fault.”

“Of c-course you meant it. You are k-kind,” Justin murmured, stuttering slightly more than usual, looking down into his cup.

“It is nothing.”

Justin looked into his face. “No, not nothing. You’re — w-wonderful, and you’re s-so brave, and _lovely_ —” He looked down, his face flushing, and Anthonius didn’t know what to say. Did Justin feel the same way he himself did? He must. Anthonius’s heart leapt, and he watched Justin’s face carefully. He still wasn’t looking up, and his ears were bright red.

“Anthonius — I’m s-sorry—”

“Justin,” he murmured, and the other man looked into his face again. “Could—could I kiss you?” He whispered the words, afraid for a moment that he’d misread the situation somehow. Justin’s breath caught.

“Truly? You would want to do that?”

Anthonius nodded earnestly. “Yes, I would truly like to.”

There was a pause. “You’re not s-saying this out of pity?”

“No, of course not! I’d never pity you. Why would you think that?”

“Well—you c-could be trying to make me feel better. And I know I’m not attractive…”

“No, it is none of those things. You are certainly not unattractive, and I would never pretend to have these feelings for anyone.” Anthonius tried moving a little closer. “It is in my heart that I truly would like to kiss you.”

Looking fully into his face now, Justin smiled, and it was a beautiful sight. “It is in mine as well. If… if you’re really sure.” He reached for Anthonius’s hand, and Anthonius stepped in even closer.

“I am sure. I want to love you, and hold you, and kiss you…”

Tilting Justin’s chin up slightly, Anthonius leaned into him and pressed his lips carefully to Justin’s. It was chaste and sweet at first, and then Anthonius tried to deepen the kiss, and Justin groaned against his lips. He was clearly inexperienced enough that this was all very new to him, and he wasn’t very good at it, but Anthonius still enjoyed it immensely; it felt good because it was Justin, and the closeness of their bodies was wonderful and rousing.

They drew apart far enough to press their foreheads together, and Anthonius kept his eyes closed, wanting to preserve this moment forever. Justin squeezed his shoulders gently before leaning in again to kiss his cheek.

“Was that alright?”

“More than alright, my dear,” Anthonius said and kissed him again deeply, grinning into it.

Eventually they went into Anthonius’s room and spent some more time just talking and kissing, and Anthonius basked in the warm, happy feeling in his chest. He tightened his arm around Justin and buried his face in the other man’s hair. After a while they fell asleep together, Justin’s head pillowed against Anthonius’s chest, both of them feeling comfortable and safe for the first time in what felt like too long. They’d worry about everything else in the morning, but for now Anthonius just wanted to focus on enjoying this feeling and these moments.

**Author's Note:**

> (I'm very sorry if this feels super out of character asgfdshgfd)


End file.
